Ancient beers

In the lawless desert, where the sun beat down,
I wandered with a kid and a nerd, both truly unsound,
Bounty hunters we found, and soon we blazed fire,  their eyes a blazing fire
For a prize that was worthless, but our hearts were set to acquire,

Through dust and swear, and the bolt and shank's stings,
We fought with grit, all for an ancient metal thing.
A vending machine, rusted and lost to time's hand,
Stood before us, its bottom dug in the sand.

With a brave soul, I pressed the screen, old and worn.
And out it clattered - a can, tattered, forlorn.
I cracked it open, intent to taste its way ---------------------------- (What the fuck)
But as I took a sip, my joy began to sway.

Bitter and stale, the taste like liquid rust,
The beer, a foul betrayal, mocking all my trust.
We fought for this? I thought, my spirit near to break,
A massacre for a beer, that was nothing but a fake.

For all that toil, for a victory near,
All I got was that lousy beer.

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C'mon, you are better than this. Its been only what, a year? 
Figure out the goddamn metrics. Some verses are 8, some are 11.
DON'T START WRITING AGAIN UNTIL YOU HAVE THE FINAL DRAFT. The correction looks like absolute shit.
Good ending, but breaks the 4 verse 8 syllable AABB structure.
Probably should have added something about that UN thing but honestly I don't want to get this ripped off again by some fuck yelling about sensitive information in a poem.

This page has been violently torn from the diary, along a few others. A piece still remains, being glued for some reason to the next page. A small exert can still be read on the piece, which what seems like a failed reconstruction of the verses being done in the page below, which has plenty of chaotically placed notes.

No Land for Old Fish                   _________/   

In a land of peril, by a jagged coast,                         /  Can't believe fucking IA ripped off half of my poemary. 
Where devils danced in shadows, dark and close,_/        Elevate complain later     Fuckers said "sensitive info", who
I wandered for a shore to cast my line,       ____/                             |                    gives a shit about me fishing?
But fate, it kept my rod at bay.             ___/                       Rowe said something about not shaking the wasp nest?
Nor the ancient ship, repaired and sai/led
Nor the lighthouse, /  decrepit yet unsealed (?)
Did / I come to  we fish in                                           I have a weird feeling.
/  I am killing that Blackburn piece of shit

Less missions as of late?                         Dad said army friends getting tense with the intelligence fucks

Rumours about confrontations between IA and high ranking officers. Talked to pa, maybe its good to leave Aro for a while.

Merlin requested transfer. I am alone with the other khazhian.

Gut was right, shit hit the fan. Fuck it, I aint joining a civil war. Fuck the corps.

I forgot my damn risotto

I forgot my damn risotto, my mind lost during the quest,
In a forest's tangled shadows, where trials put me to the test.
For the bartender's plea, a pot  of risotto he offered
In the case that the needed shrooms, were safely recovered.

The mayor, in distress, her life held in a snare,
With courage as my compass, I freed her from despair.
Not before slaughtering the kinds of lowlives
That attempted to mug me, when I stood with no knives.

Yet, undeterred, I pushed on, to clear a bandit's lair,
With valor and conviction, I faced the enemies there.
But all the glory sought, the treasure's shining glare,
It paled before the vision of my risotto, so rich and rare.

The treasure chest revealed, with gold and jewels it gleamed,
Yet disappointment filled my heart, as if all was but a dream.
For what's wealth compared to taste, to flavors that enthrall,
I'd trade it all away, for a single bite to recall.

So, I shared the spoils with Gage, the treasure freely given,
In exchange for a humble pot, a gift to those forgiven.
For in my heart, I'll always yearn, for that risotto's grace,
"I forgot my damn risotto," a lament I can't erase.

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Notes: I should fix up the metrics here and there. Verses seem kind of unequal. Also maybe I should start looking at the reports that come out. Once more they gave Merlin the best commendation. Bet fucker's drafting em all fancy to make me look bad.